Choose Your Battles
by Gilaureloth
Summary: Chad is desperate to cut out the competition and he'll do anything. Channy multichapter. WIP
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Don't own anything, etc. etc. You know the drill.**

I, Chad Dylan Cooper, have the perfect life. I mean, look at me. I've had my own TV show since I was 12, I have millions of adoring fans, and let's face it – I'm pretty sexy too. And to top it all off, I have the Randoms, so I have someone to gloat over it to. What's not perfect about that? I can only think of one thing that could make my life better, or shall we say more perfect.

It's that new girl that joined the Randoms. She's pushing their ratings up dangerously close to MacKenzie Falls. Wouldn't it be a shame if she suddenly decided to just… leave? But I'm working on that. If she hasn't gone within the season then I'm not as good as I think I am.

We were on the third take of the scene. Something to do with Portlyn and lack of emotion or something, I don't know what, but this time it was going really well. We'd gotten further than the directors had previously let us. In fact, we were almost to the end of the scene. I was pretty bored. I'd been through it three times now, and if we didn't wrap it soon, I'd have to do something drastic. I was so bored, that I'd stopped thinking about the script. Yeah, it's nice and all, but I could ad-lib with the best of them, and some variation was definitely the trick to keep Portlyn in this strong emotional mood.

Which is why I almost didn't notice when the next line – "What's the matter with you?" – didn't come from Portlyn. That was distinctly not part of the script, and while I could ad-lib just fine, Portlyn was not so good at it. She was taking the script in completely the wrong direction.

"What's the matter with me? What's the matter with -" I started, intending to tell her off for ruining yet another take. "Those words didn't come out of your mouth." The director called "Cut!" from off-stage and I barely kept from rolling my eyes. The lights came up and I turned around looking for the source of the disturbance. It was the new Random. Great.

"We're sort of in the middle of a shoot here," I said. Maybe, being a Random and not from the business, she didn't recognize that fact.

"And now you're sort of taking a break." Judging from the look on her face, she knew exactly what we'd been doing and didn't care. "Portlyn, you've got great legs, let's see how they move."

_What?_ I thought. _Who does she think she is? This is _my_ set, and _I _control things around here._ Trying desperately to salvage the situation, I called after Portlyn, "Stay sad, Sweetie." She'd take the "Sweetie" way out of context, but that was ok. I don't mind having her lust after me. They all do it anyways. Turning around, I tried to take control.

"What is your problem?" I asked, doing my best to look both hurt and aggressive at the same time. I'm pretty sure aggressive won.

"What's my problem? My problem is that everything my friends, and Tawni, told me about you guys is true. You MacKenzie Falls people are jerks!" she accused. I stopped listening about there. The crew were changing the scene around us, and if I remembered correctly the next scene we were shooting was the date Portlyn and I had the night before I tried to dump her. It was in a park and it was dark… the perfect setting to make her swoon so much she'd forget all about why she was there. I could make her fall for me, no problem, and then when I told her I didn't love her, she'd be so devastated she'd leave. All I had to do was keep her talking until they got it set. I tuned back in to "the head ambassador of Jerkoslovakia," and almost laughed.

"You saw the egg salad video," I said, quite proud, "Yeah, I also direct."

"We were trying to make peace." She sounded almost hurt.

"Ugh. Please, you were trying to trap us," I said, ignoring that little bit of pain I felt. Maybe _she'd_ thought it was making peace, but there's no way the rest of the Randoms were in on it. They'd probably laced her precious egg salad with laxative or something.

"Trap you? You've obviously been watching your show too much. You know not everything is cutthroat and gossipy? Sometimes people do things just to be nice."

"Do they, Sonny?" I asked. I hated using her name, but I knew there was no other way to get her to fall for me, "Do they really?" The set was almost ready. I timed it just so, and the lights went down just as I finished this last. _Alright, here's your chance_, I told myself, _just like with Portlyn, just another ad-lib._ She was looking straight into my eyes, and I knew I had her.

"Look," I said, jumping into a monologue, "it was sweet of you to put that picnic together. Way sweet." I set aside my revulsion for all Randoms and stepped forward, cupping her elbow in my hand. I smiled my most sincere and took a breath. "But the bad blood between our two shows has run too deep for too long to be healed by a bowl of egg salad and even the best intentions." I did my best to look like I was sad about this. Her face had glazed over and I knew I had her under my spell.

"Just because you wish for something, doesn't make it so," I said, taking her hand in both of mine. Most girls would die for the treatment she was getting. She was certainly lapping it up. She'd be gone by tomorrow.

"Oh Chad Dylan-" she started. I could tell she was going to try to shake it off, so I stopped her.

"Shh- Time for talking's over." I put a finger over her mouth to make sure of it. She seemed the type to keep prattling on forever if you don't stop them. "I must go." I started backing away. "So run. Run back to your show. Put your sweet little dreams of peace to bed." I let go of her hand slowly, a little afraid that she'd just fall over without me holding onto it, supporting her. Yeah, I have that effect on girls. I turned away and only just barely kept myself from punching the air in excitement. This was going to be easier than I thought.

**A/N: Hello again! It has been a really, _really_ long time. I'm sorry about that, but I kind of had things going on, like going on exchange and school and stuff. But, the other day I was going through my old documents on the computer and I found this little idea. I know so far it's just a rewrite of an episode from Chad's POV, but I promise it'll be more than that. In fact, I've already practically got the next chapter finished, I just wanted to get something posted so I could get some feedback. And speaking of feedback, I'm not much a fan of the title. Anyone have any better ideas?  
**

**If you read my last story you may remember, I asked at the end of the last one I asked which story people would like to see next. For those who picked "Punch in the Face," it will probably be incorporated into this one. Those of you that asked for "Suffering in Silence," it may be a little while. Sorry, but I really don't remember what I was going to write for that one. Sorry.**

**Anyways, thanks for reading, have a nice day, and please review on your way out.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I own nothing.**

It had been a bad day. My trainer was late, Portlyn couldn't get her act together, my latte was cold and to top it all off, I'd had to be respectful to… to… to the mail guy. Since when does Chad Dylan Cooper be nice to the people who serve him?

Lost in my own thoughts, I wandered a little farther than I should have. I was back stage at _So Random, _and embarrassingly enough, had no idea how to get back to my own set. I turned the corner and who should I run into but that sneaky, no-good ratings stealer and her so-big-it's-got-to-be-fake smile. I ran through my list of cutting insults, wondering which to use this time. Really it didn't matter which I pick – she would still be left floundering for a comeback. That's the one good thing about producers who bring in uncultured hicks on a whim. The hicks are usually so used to being nice that it takes a while for a comeback to float to the surface, and by then I'm long gone. Suddenly I realized there was something wrong. The girl's usual huge grin is nowhere to be seen and she's quickly stuffing props into a box. It isn't until I catch a glimpse of her face framed by the blonde wig that I realize she reminded me of someone.

"I knew I recognized you. You're weird beard," I said. She looked down at her shoes, very embarrassed. _Paydirt_, I thought. Blackmail is just as good if not better than insults to get rid of someone.

"Why are you weird beard?" I asked when no explanation seemed forthcoming. While the tidbit about weird beard would work fine, the more details I could get, the quicker I could convince her to leave.

"Why do you care?" she asked me. It was a fair question. I make a point of not caring about anything or anyone.

"I don't know, let's give it a shot," I replied, slightly puzzled myself. She shrugged and started telling me anyway.

"Well, I sent myself a fan letter, I pretended to be my own fan, and now I get to go out on stage and meet the fan that I'm pretending to be." Her voice became sarcastically cheerful on this last bit. _This is even better than I thought it would be_, I said to myself.

"Why would you write yourself a fan letter?" I asked. It didn't make sense. Granted she probably didn't get as many letters as I do every day, but that doesn't mean she should write one herself to make up for it.

She sighed. "Because I lost faith in myself," she answered.

"Classic case of actor insecurity," I said. "Start doubting your abilities, wondering whether you were good enough and whether you deserve to be on television." _What?!_ the voices inside my head started screaming at me. _What are you doing?! Chad Dylan Cooper does _not_ have weaknesses, much less tell the _enemy_ about them._ The voices resolved into the single voice of my father.

"So you've been through this?" she asked hopefully. _Thank God she's given you a way to fix it!_ the voice says.

"No," I lied, laughing a little to help myself back into character. "But I made you think I had which is why _I'll_ never go through it." I made the mistake then of looking into her eyes. They were a soft chocolate-y brown and they were full of hurt. She looked so small and vulnerable that I wanted to take back my words the second they left my mouth. Still, I covered it well. Then the moment was gone and the liquid pain solidified into blocks of hatred.

"You are unbelievable!" she said, the disgust plain in her voice. "I knew it. You don't care. You know, I thought we were having a real moment here." I forced my face into a blank mask and let her disgust and hatred wash over me. I've gotten very good at that particular technique over the years. It doesn't make the pain go away, but it dulls it enough so it's bearable. I'll just bury this speech along with all the others.

I looked up briefly as Marshall's voice blared over the loudspeaker, calling her back to the stage.

"Well that's my cue," she said. She sounded so dejected that I was actually starting to feel sorry for her.

"So, what're you going to do?" I asked.

"You don't care remember?" she said, mimicking my voice. I had the fleeting urge to contradict her, but she continued before I could act on it. "But I do. Now excuse me while I go out there and embarrass myself." She brushed past me and walked on stage, chin held high and back straight. _You have to admire her courage,_ I thought. I looked down at the box she'd left on the table. _You know…_ I thought, _She and I are about the same height…_ The voice inside my head is screaming at me to leave it, but I just can't shake the vision of those vulnerable, whipped-puppy-dog eyes. I heard Marshall begin to count down and I quickly began pulling on the clothes. For once in my life, I was going to ignore the father in my head. Besides, how was he going to find out?

* * *

"What. The HELL. WAS THAT?" screamed my father as soon as I answered the phone.

"I'm sorry?" I asked. Maybe if I played dumb, the lecture wouldn't be quite so severe.

"Damn right you're sorry and you're going to be a lot sorrier when I'm through with you! I told you to get rid of her, and come to find out you've ensured her a permanent position?! That little stunt of yours put their ratings through the roof! And don't you dare play dumb with me, young man. The audience may not have recognized you, the stupid Randoms may not have recognized you, but I know my son! What were you thinking?" I opened my mouth to explain when I realized I didn't have any explanation. Just a pair of sad puppy-dog eyes. Not that it really mattered. I wouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise until Dad decided he was done anyways. I slid down to sit against the wall and leaned my head back. All I could really do was wait it out. I let the words wash over me and then gathered them up into a ball and buried them. It didn't matter what Dad thought anyways.

_I'll get you for this, Sonny Munroe,_ I thought, _for earning me yet another lecture from my father, for making me wear that stupid beard, and most of all for tricking me with those big brown eyes!_

__**A/N: Hi guys! Two posts in one day is a lot I know. It probably won't happen again, because this chapter was already pretty much written. I hope to have something soon, but no guarantees as exams are coming up soon. Anyway, let me know what you think. I'm especially anxious to know what you think of Chad's agent father. I really like the idea of him, but I'm not sure I got the tone right. What do you think?**

**Alright, have a nice day and please review on your way out =)**

**~Laure  
**


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